Chewed up

Serves me right to go to circus class with capri-length leggings; since Sunday I have had a rather epic abrasion wound on the inside of my right knee from the slack drop. And I totally didn't reopen it today doing an ankle hang, because that, my friends, would be incredibly stupid.

Fortunately, the word of the day is "Masticate" so bruised, skinned, and in pain is apparently the theme of the day!

I knew it would hurt thirty seconds before anything happened; yelped “ouch” prematurely, as a warning rather than a reaction. Gritted my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut. There was no way around it, not now. The music compelled me onward, more powerful than the knowledge that I would regret it the next day, minute, moment. There was no sharp pain, not at first, just raspy warmth. The sting would come later, a wincing reminder every time I took a step. “Well, that was stupid,” I said. “Should not have done that.”

“Oh, ouch,” my friend answered. “See you next week?”

Two days down, twenty-nine to go.